Failure was in the eye of the beholder. Technically, he had failed to take out one of the Tracys, but at least their ship had been damaged. And then, his associate's code had gone into effect to destroy a competitor who refused to yield to his demands.

All in all, the last twenty-four hours had been a win for the Hood. His plans never really needed to come to full fruition as long as part of them caused enough chaos. They were distractions, ways to show others just what was in store if they crossed him.

And with such a boost to his ego, he had decided to celebrate.

Antiquities - baubles of the past that could be worth millions to the right person - lined the study of his base. Most of the trinkets were from dark periods when human life was not considered of utmost importance. Power. That was what the leaders years ago had sought and obtained - for a short time. Now, he surrounded himself with their accomplishments. They were treasures that only the villainous would admire.

And admire them, he did. The Hood's fingers traced the frame of a document that held the chemical composition of deadly agents. He would often entertain the idea of recreating them to use against his enemies, but he had other ways - easier and far more torturous.

At the center of the study, a box sat like a gift, waiting for its new owner to open it. A gift from one of his allies that would soon be followed by a request. The answer to that would depend on what lay inside the box.

That could wait, however. There was an art to discovering the ancient and it started with - for him - a drink. Armagnac, 1967, to be precise. The rich, amber liquid pooled in the crystal glass and he held it under his nose for a long moment.

The next plan had yet to be implemented and wouldn't for another two weeks, which was what made today's show so much more rewarding. It had happened in such a way, International rescue shouldn't have been able to attend to the factory - grief and all that - but they had defied his desires and saved the trapped workers - and from what his informants had told him, only one of the men had made it out after the fail safe had been detonated. The bloody gloves had been a bonus as well.

The Hood took a long sip of the liquid, letting it wash over his tongue before cascading down his throat. Excellent - the brandy and the blow to the Tracys. He made a mental note to send his condolences. Red roses would do nicely.

Taking a seat, he set the glass down, trying to imagine the family's faces at his gesture, and carefully undid the latch that held the lid over his gift. It wasn't heavy like the oak he had expected, but again, the box wasn't the important part. Inside lay his treasures.

Black Silk. That was a good sign as his fingers ran over the lush fabric that shifted smoothly under his touch. This was the wrapping of elegance - a negligee to be slowly removed until he uncovered the curves and edges.

A bottle?

Granted, it wasn't the typical, the only bottle he considered worth keeping were filled and corked in the 1900s. This was of an Arab design, the glass a deep purple and embossed with intricate lines of black metalwork. Beautiful in craftsmanship, but potentially worthless.

The Hood lifted the bottle carefully from its bedding, searching under the base for any details to origin or date. Nothing. No card or paper of authenticity.

Just a bottle.

Dust had somehow settled into the grooves and over the dark glass and he swiped at it with a palm in annoyance. Whomever had decided this would earn them a place in his good graces, they were sorely mistaken.

Suddenly, the room began to rumble with quakes that sent the Hood clinging to the leather chair as the bottle fell back into the box. Then, the room erupted in suffocating smoke.

OoOoOoO

Clouds hung low, grey and thick. Fitting for how he felt, yet the moisture that teased his skin did little to lessen the numbness. Gordon watched the waves crash against the rocks below as they were encouraged by the early morning storm.

The night had been a long one of bringing Thunderbird 2 back to base after transporting the facility workers to their evacuation point. Everyone had been waiting around the infirmary for any moment they might be needed.

Gordon had been needed.

Once his gloves had been removed and he was standing at the end of the infirmary beds, there had been the wish for blood to help John. Then the questions started. What had happened? What had John found? Who was behind this?

There would be no answers until the astronaut woke up.

Virgil woke shortly after he'd been stitched up, dark brown eyes locking onto the genie with a desperate need. The engineer had lost his Thunderbird. Gordon had it all sitting in his head - every switch combination, every shudder that would run through the green ship and what it meant. He understood her in a way that only Virgil had and it was tearing the man up to be without that knowledge.

A quiet instruction to Penelope had remedied it and Virgil's grief melted away in an instant as he closed his eyes, a tear sliding free and into the dark, disheveled hair. That was Gordon's job - a balance of give and take that could destroy or build - tear out a person's purpose and put it right back in.

A rock fell from his fingers and was quickly swallowed by the churning waters. He debated jumping, let the ocean shut out the world around him that hurt until his mistress requested his presence. The pain wasn't so much an ache as it was an emptiness. Gordon had never been asked to hurt anyone he cared about. There had been masters who had wished the demise of others, but those had been easy enough to counteract. Wish for the death of someone - they get moved to some nice little cottage on a hill to die of old age some natural number of years later. Of course, he would alter their memories, but at least they would live. Gordon had created a whole new village once after he'd been asked to kill an entire fleet during a war. His master had been none the wiser.

But to be asked to inflict pain, because, if he didn't, someone else would die - it hurt in a way he'd never experienced before.

"Mind if I join you?" Penelope's voice was gentle and calculated as she came up behind him. She didn't want to startle him, but that was impossible. Gordon knew where she was at all times. Just another perk to being bound to someone for life.

The genie scooted over on the hillside, patting the ground and wondering if she would actually sit on the dirt. She did, her legs tucked against her chest as she looked out over the angry water.

"How are they?" He asked, sending another pebble into the waves.

"Stable, but strong. They'll be alright." She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You saved both of them."

A scoff slipped from his lips, but he didn't voice his fears. Yes, both men were alive, but at what cost? No one knew the long term effects. They could still be lost if anything went wrong.

Patience was easily one of his mistress's strong suits as she offered a knowing smile. "I don't much care for what ifs, but in this case I feel it is appropriate. What would have happened if you hadn't been there to get them to Thunderbird 2?"

John would be dead and, most likely, Virgil right there with him. The facility had collapsed after that final explosion. "I know - it's just... I've never had to hurt anyone before. Not intentionally anyways."

"That was Virgil's choice."

He flashed her an exasperated look, "You know I have the ability to warp a wish any way I like. I could've just given Virgil a paper cut and-"

"John would still die-"

"No, Virgil would just have to try a different way, I don't know. He could've-"

"Put the wound on someone else? Possibly killed someone he'd never met?" The ludicrous nature of her words cut off anything else Gordon might have argued. "They're Tracys. That goes against everything they stand for."

He was quiet a moment longer as he tried to accept what she was saying. It finally culminated into one simple statement.

"I don't like hurting people."

Penelope's hand squeezed again, the smile still on her face. "Why do you think I brought you out here? I know you better than you think, Gordon. You want to make a difference in ways beyond wealth and power. Yes, the boys were hurt, but they're alive because of you, and because of what you did, they will continue to do their job. That is worth the sacrifice, don't you think?"

She was right. No matter how much he hated what he had done, good men were still on this earth. He would just have to keep them here.

"Thanks," Gordon whispered over the crash of the waves. If she heard him, she didn't voice it, content to turn her gaze to the ocean. "You're all a really special group of people. I hope you know that."

This time, she laughed, but it was light and carried a hint of surprise. "I think the boys forget that what they do isn't normal."

A grin tugged at his lips at that, unable to help himself from glancing at her. "What you do isn't quite everyday humdrum either, Lady P."

Penelope shrugged, which was odd to see when she tended to strive for prim and proper. "I guess we enjoy living on the edge. The benefits are quite fantastic."

"Can't argue against that logic. It would be -"

A jolt of energy sparked through his core, Gordon's hand jerking away from Penelope's as she let out a startled cry at the sensation. His eyes clenched shut and the force swirled within, overwhelming his senses with the universe's call.

"Gordon?" Penelope's voice was muffled, but he could hear the concern. "What's going on?"

One lid peeled open, then another and the genie could already feel the energy beginning to dissipate. He took in a steadying breath as his gaze reached out over the ocean. It had been centuries since he had last felt something like that and he questioned the need to be alarmed. Probably not - possibly yes.

"Gordon?!" She tried again, clearer, and he met her worried expression with uncertainty. "What is it?"

A pause as the last of the warning left and amber returned to the horizon. "Another genie has awoken."

OoOoOoO

The room cleared in an instant as pebbles and dust settled over the contents of the study. It was always Fuse's favorite part, right after the shocked expression on his new master's face. This one was surprisingly angry at first as he surveyed the damage, but the anger turned to suspicion.

"You best have a good reason for this mess before I have you removed - forcibly." The threat seemed real, but not at all worrisome. The genie could have fun with this one.

"Oy - you set me free, so this," Fuse gestured to the amusing disaster. "Is technically your fault, Master."

"I beg your pardon?" The bald man hissed, but there was an underlying intrigue. "Wait - I did what?"

"Congratulations," he grinned, arms crossed over his chest as he stood opposite his master. Curiosity sent brown eyes flicking over to a solid mahogany display case - and the amusement slammed head long into a brick wall as he took in the images and small icons that sat on the dust covered shelves. The faces from history that Fuse knew all too well - had helped create in some cases - stared at him. Mocking him. His mind screamed that this couldn't be real. No one that evil could still exist, but even as his eyes moved around the room, ignorant of the impatience etched over his new master's face, his heart shuddered. His lips thinned and Fuse fought to silence the words that strived to come out - that the universe demanded he say - and he knew this world was in trouble, even as his lips parted. "You've awoken a genie."

"A genie?" Fuse hoped the man would find it a ridiculous idea and have his bottle and himself sent away, not that it would work. History was doomed to repeat itself and there was little he could do. Curiosity always was the downfall of humans sometimes and there was intrigue in his master's voice, now. "As in, I get three wishes?"

"If that's all you want, sure." Fuse tried.

"Oh, I want more," the man grinned. "Infinite sounds far more reasonable, but how am I to know you are what you say?"

The genie frowned, inwardly hoping for something not too earth shattering. "Make a wish."

His master was quiet for a moment as he contemplated, yellow eyes never leaving him. His smile grew as he came to a decision. "I wish to rule the world."

Damn… Fuse deflated with the confirmation of his fears. Thankfully, he could delay the inevitable and he snapped his fingers.

The room lay in silence and the genie tried not to laugh. The smile on his face was impossible to hide as his master stared at the globe and tape ruler that sat on the table between them.

"What - is this?"

"A ruler so you can 'rule' the world. Best get to it, Master." And now he did laugh. "Look, you're not the first bloke to try that. It's not so easy - takin' over the world. I suggest ya keep it a bit simpler."

The low chuckle surprised him as slender fingers spun the globe. "I see. Then I'll just need to be a bit more specific. Do tell me, so I'm sure, is there a limit to the wishes?"

"Just that I can't make somethin' from nothin'," he hoped that wouldn't need further explaining.

"And as many wishes as I like?" Calculated and sinister as he began to slow the globe's spin.

"Until the day you die, Master," and for very obvious reasons, Fuse hoped that would be soon.

"Well, then," the globe stopped and the bald man's smile grew. "If I'm going to rule the world, I'll need a lot of money."